City Love
by like a criminal
Summary: Post season 3, you could call it a version of season four. Meredith, Derek, and the always lovely New York City.
1. Mary Jane

_Well, I'm writing a new story and it's going to be new for me. Lots of chapters! Which means I'm going to really push myself to be updating at least once a week, if not more. It's summer, but it's harder than you think because my friends are always planning tons of things to do, which is really fun, but leads to less down time, therefore less writing. But hopefully, since I have this semi-mapped out in my head, it will work out how I want it to and yes._

_ In any event, enjoy.  
---_

_Well it's full speed baby  
In the wrong direction  
There's a few more bruises  
If that's the way you insist on heading _

---

The heat on the subway platform presses against her skin like dead weight, wrapping Meredith Grey up in its stickiness and squeezing her until her skin glistens with sweat. She reaches up with her hand and pushes the loose bits of hair that have escaped her ponytail and cling to her damp skin. A few feet down a street performer drums enthusiastically on a plastic bucket, crying out some sad song meant to move people to drop whatever change they have into the hat that lays out in front of his feet. Everyone else jostles by, loud tourists spreading their maps open wide to get a sense of their location with in the city, and young teens engaging in aggressive conversation laugh in loud, syncopated rhythms. Others just look bored, staring down the track waiting for another train and then sighing loudly, when they don't see it, leaning back into their heels and flipping to the next page of the newspaper. Somewhere, to the left, a baby cries and a woman speaking a language that Meredith does not know, or recognize, moves to comfort the child. She rolls her head back, releasing the air in between the bones in her neck with satisfying pops and letting her muscles stretch. She snaps her head to attention when the two beams of light and rush of hot air that announced the arrival of her train came, and she crowded around the door with the rest of the passengers. It opens and people rush off against the flow of people rushing in, Meredith tries to not get swept up with the people and hurries to a seat where she an sit, albeit wedged between two plump passengers, and rest her travel weary legs.

She lets her shoulders sink back into the cool, plastic seat, lets her lids flutter shut, so that she can take in the sounds around her, and revel in the air-conditioned car. Even in a city full of millions of people, and in the packed subway car, Meredith somehow manages to have the solitude that she felt she needed when she made this hurried trip to the East coast. Something in Seattle was smothering her. And when she had returned to the hospital the day after Burke and Cristina's cancelled wedding, and Derek had stared at her with that sad look in his blue eyes, and Bailey had told her that her half-sister Lexie was now a surgical intern had Seattle Grace, she had thrown in the towel. She rushed to Chief Webber's office and asked him for the time off that she hadn't asked for when she had died, her mother had died, or Susan had died. She returned back to her town house and threw whatever she could find in a suitcase and had taken the first flight she could get clear across the country and in no time she was in New York City, on a crowded subway car taking the downtown 6 train to wherever.

Meredith does not regret her need to flee; it's something that she has done since childhood. Sometime in her youth, around six when she realized that her father was never coming home and that nights spent without a nanny and being cared for by her mother would be rare, she had packed a plastic care bear suitcase with as many Barbies and Jell-o mixes as she could find and tried to run away. In high school she had dyed her hair an angry shade of pink and driven to house parties near and far, in search of adventure. And after college she had fought with her mother until she had been able to go backpacking through Europe, spending foreign currency on cheap beer and sleeping with men who, when added together, spoke more languages than she could count on her fingers. In comparison to these actions, Meredith supposes that her surprise what one couldn't quite call a vacation, to New York is rather tame and logical. Now she is an adult, she can take care of herself, and with the sum total of her mother's life savings combined with her own measly intern salary, she is thankful that this time around she can at least afford to drink the expensive imported beer and sleep in something a few stars up from a dirty youth hostel.

Either way, hours into her arrival, Meredith hasn't had a drink, or spent that much time in her hotel, and instead rides the subway. It's packed with too many foul scents and sounds for her to focus for more than a moment on the fact that she has abandoned Cristina, possibly when she needs her most, or what McDreamy will think when he realizes that she's gone, and her newfound re-realization that happy endings do not exist in the state of Washington. So she squeezes her eyes shut, takes another deep breath, and allows the subway car to rock her gently into a peaceful half-slumber.

---

Somewhere on the Upper East Side Meredith's eyes fly open and she drags the back of her hand across her mouth, hoping to catch and stray traces of saliva that might have made their way out of her mouth. She blinks rapidly, to clear her eyes of fog, and her head snaps up from the cool, metal railing that she is pressed up against. By this hour there are few passengers on the train and it is mostly silent, the tinny sounds of someone's headphones playing an aggressive Latin rhythm that carries throughout the car. Across from her a wrinkled old man gives her a toothy grin, and down the car to the left she can see that a homeless woman also slumbers, albeit slumped awkwardly on a giant trash bag full of Lord-knows-what. The train comes to a screeching halt and as her shoulder rock from side to side; she realizes that this is her stop.

It isn't until Meredith is stretching her legs up the steps that lead out of the subway, and is thrust into the brightly lit streets of the city that she realizes she has spent her entire day on the subway, underground, save for a few stops in the Bronx. She stops for a second at the top of the staircase, disoriented and trying to get a sense of her direction, before pulling herself together and walking down Lexington towards 87th Street, where her hotel lies. The streets are busy despite the late hour and Meredith is certain that New York lives up to its reputation as the city that never sleeps.

The doorman at her hotel is still posted, and holds the door open wide with a courteous "Good evening," and Meredith bites her lips nervously at the first words that anyone has spoken directly to her that day. Somewhere on the elevator, as it shoots up to her destination, the length of the day, and the extent of her travel hits her, and her body sags limply to the elevator wall with its force. She is tired, and her legs are burdened with a combination of sleep and sadness once she arrives at her room.

The glaring desk clock reminds her of the time, and she instinctively calculates the three-hour difference between New York and Seattle, trying not to wonder what everyone is doing in her absence. Or how Izzie and Alex took the rushed note that she had left, informing them of her impromptu trip before heading out to catch the van to the airport. Thinking about Izzie and Alex ultimately leads her to think of Cristina, and flopping down on her bed with a sigh, she reaches into her purse, turns on her cell phone and dials the familiar number.

Cristina answers on the third ring. "Where did you go?" Her words tumble out of her mouth, pushing against each other into one long string of syllables.

Meredith takes a deep breath before she speaks. "I'm in New York." She kicks off her shoes.

"The city?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Cristina's voice is filled with incredulity.

"I just needed… to breathe." She squeezes her eyes shut on the bed, and curls her body up into the fetal position. "I'm sorry I left you, how are – how are things?"

Meredith lets herself ask the completely loaded question and is not surprised when Cristina takes a long beat before answering.

"It's better now that I'm back at the hospital," she admits. "I thought it would be worse, and people would talk and look at me like I was that poor, sad intern who got left at the altar, but I think getting gossiped about in the hospital is more your thing."

Meredith could cry tears of joy at the sarcasm that is evident in her voice, because it is a sign that her best friend hasn't fallen apart, completely.

"Maybe if the two of us can at least keep it half together, we can make one full, normal person," she quips, and Cristina laughs in response.

"Well, thanks for skipping out on me and heading clear across the country. When are you planning on coming back?"

"I don't know, I didn't think that far ahead, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing."

"Who takes a spur-of-the-moment trip from Seattle to New York?"

"Girls with evil half sisters who are now interns at Seattle Grace," Meredith grimaces and can hear Cristina letting out a surprised breath.

"Which one is she?"

"I don't know what she even looks like, but her name is Lexie, Lexie Grey."

The line is quiet for a while, as Cristina processes this new bit of information. "You never even met her when your dad's wife was trying to be your friend?"

"Nope, the only one I ever saw was the one with the baby," Meredith moves a hand up to rub her temple. "But you know, this is just my luck."

"It's not luck, or bad luck, or anything, it just is what it is Mer," Cristina points out. "Or at least that's what I keep telling myself."

Meredith sighs, loudly, "For once I don't want to talk about my problems anymore, can we go back to yours."

"Fine," her friend grunts. "I think I want my old apartment back, it's too weird trying to live here without Burke," her voice loses its strength towards the end of the sentence, and Meredith fears that she's going to lapse back into tears.

"I wish you could stay with us, but I already gave George's room to Alex," Meredith apologizes.

"No, it's okay, I could never live in Casa Intern, Izzie is toxic, and I've heard too many stories about all the loud sex you and McDreamy have all night."

"McDreamy and I aren't having sex anymore," hard as she tries, Meredith cannot keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"You know he's going to look for you," Cristina points out.

"I know."

"And what am I supposed to say when he asks me where you are?"

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it?" she answered, lamely, her voice rising up at the end of the sentence to form a question out of the phrase.

"Well, you know when you make up your mind about it, do me a favor and let me know."

"You can tell him, you can tell him that I went to New York," Meredith finally says. "But you know, don't tell him where I'm staying, not that you even know where I'm staying, but I just don't want him to worry."

"You know that's useless, but whatever, I'll only tell him if he asks, not that he won't ask."

Meredith cringes, "Ugh, just – whatever, new subject, how is everyone else?"

"I think Izzie is going crazy, something's wrong with Alex but I'll never ask, and George failed the intern exam."

"What?!" Meredith's eyes fly open with shock and she sits up straight in the bed. "Why didn't you tell me that to begin with?"

"Um, because you were _missing_ from _Seattle_, and that's not the type of information you bring up first thing. It's his bad news, I'm not completely heartless, and you know there's a reason why he didn't tell us in the locker room before the – that day," Cristina corrects herself, not wanting to mention the wedding that was not quite.

"Touché," Meredith murmurs. "So… what's he going to do?"

"He's repeating."

"Shit."

"That's what I said."

"Shit."

"This is why we're friends Grey."

"What would you do, if you failed?"

"Failure's not an option."

Meredith rolls her eyes, even though she knows Cristina will never see it. "Seriously, what would you do?"

"I don't know, drink… heavily? What would you do?"

"I don't know, maybe run away to the East Coast?"

"You're not going to tell me that you failed too, and that's why you're in New York, right?"

"God, no."

"Good, because I definitely prefer the evil half-sister and McDreamy problems excuse to that."

"Stop bringing him up," Meredith scowls.

"I'm sorry, it's just – they were friends."

"Derek and Burke?"

"Yeah, and I can't – do you think maybe he said something to him? About it? Like he always knew that was how it was going to end and confided in someone and everyone just went along and the two of them knew, and it was some joke they were in one and I wasn't?"

Cristina's voice cracks and Meredith's heart breaks for her friend despite the 3,000-mile difference. "Derek wouldn't do that, he's not the kind of guy who would have known and wouldn't have said anything."

"I guess that's what makes him McDreamy."

"I guess."

"You do know that I hate you for leaving me?"

"I'm sorry, I really am" Meredith says, her words honest.

"I know, just – figure your stuff out and come back soon."

"OK."

They murmur their goodbyes, and Meredith turns her phone off as soon as the lines are disconnected. She lets her head fall back in the pillows, and drifts off to sleep, fully dressed and with the lights on.

---

_So I know a lot didn't actually happen, but you have to set up the story and everything in the beginning. So please bear with me and tell me what you think so far! I'm actually really excited to write the rest of this story, in a way that I've never been before. And that makes me really, really nerdy. I know. But seriously, just thinking about it makes me feel all warm inside. _


	2. She's Leaving Home

_Father snores as his wife gets into her dressing gown  
Picks up the letter that's lying there  
Standing alone at the top of the stairs  
She breaks down and cries to her husband  
Daddy our baby's gone  
Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly  
How could she do this to me_

---

Derek Shepherd grips the handle of his steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. As is fashion in Seattle, the rain comes down in sheets, coating his car and seeming to tell him not to go further than he already has. When he had headed to the intern townhouse after not seeing Meredith at work, on a day that he knew she didn't already had off, he had only found Karev there. He sat, appearing transfixed by the television and had distractedly handed Derek the note that Meredith had left in her sloping handwriting, letting Drs. Stevens and Karev know that she had gone on a trip, and that they shouldn't worry, because she was fine. Derek had staggered out of the house, bewildered, and wondering why she hadn't left a note for him.

He had come to the house to talk. He had decided that he was going to make her talk, especially after discovering, in the hallway after a staff meeting, that the woman who had hit on him at the bar was an intern at Seattle Grace by the name of Grey, Lexie Grey, also known as Meredith's half-sister. It was at this moment that he realized that his life seemed to be repeating itself was uncanny to the point of being obnoxious. He had planned on going into Meredith's room, where she would undoubtedly be nursing a hangover or a cold, or something, and lock the door and make her listen to him talk, tell her everything, and make her talk, until their mouths were dry and they were thoroughly exhausted. He should have known that things would not have gone to plan, and that Meredith would have surprised him, and a tiny part of him had assumed as much, but he never guessed that she would not be in Seattle anymore. He hadn't known her to go to any other place, and when he had dialed her number and it had gone straight to voicemail, he hadn't known that he should think of the worst.

Now he sits in the car driving to an address that is less familiar than it should be. The two couples had occasionally done dinners and other events where light conversation was encouraged with a few glasses of wine and food, but never enough times to see that their fates are inextricably linked in the way that Meredith believes. Nonetheless, he knows that if anyone can tell him exactly where Meredith has gone, it is the woman behind this door. Before he exits the car, he lets his head rest on the steering wheel in quiet desperation and then raises his head back, pressing it down again, this time with a force that seems to make his brain shake in its skull. As an accomplished neurosurgeon, Derek Shepherd should no better than to slam his head against the steering will of the car, but apparently today is the day to throw logic out the window and leave the city with nothing more than a note to your roommates, in twenty words or less. He knocked his forehead against the steering wheel one last time, before throwing open the car door and angrily heading through the rain in the direction of the apartment building.

He presses the buzzer to gain access to the building, once, twice, three times, and in the middle of the fourth and angry voices crackles over the intercom. "Who the _fuck_ is out there?" she asks, gruffly, and he doesn't reply, instead staring steadfastly into the security camera, as he hears her shuffle around and then finally buzz him in.

The elevator does not come quickly enough so he chooses instead to quickly sprint up the three flights of stairs. By the time he gets there, the petite woman already waits for him with the door open, her hair a disheveled mess. He slumps against the wall across from her and rests his palms on his knees to catch his breath.

"Where," he pants, "is", pant, "Meredith?."

Cristina folds her arms across her chest, "You do realize what time it is?"

"I got out of the hospital at 11," he runs a hand through his thick hair and straightens to his full height. "I went to her house and she wasn't there, she left a note for Stevens and Karev, and it didn't say where she was going, but I know that she talks to you."

Her lips form a firm line and she lets her eyes run over him in disdain. "And what makes you think that she _wants_ you to know where she is?"

"Meredith has no idea – Meredith doesn't know – I don't care what she wants," he finally settles on those words. "It's not about her, it's about me, I _need_ to know where she is."

"Well we can't always get what we want," Cristina says flatly, unconvinced. She moves in to shut the door and Derek throws his arm out to catch it.

"Seriously Yang, if you do one thing for me, please."

"You knew didn't you?" she says sharply, and suddenly.

"_What?_" his words are filled with surprise, and for the first time that evening he doesn't think about Meredith, but tries to interpret what Cristina is saying to him. "I knew that she was going to leave today? No?"

"Ugh," she groans, and rolls her eyes at him. "For once it's not about you and Meredith. You knew, you knew that Burke was going to leave."

His eyes soften, and he really takes in her disheveled appearance, and that fact that they are standing outside the apartment that she used to share with a man she fully intended to wed. "Oh Cristina," his voice is tender. "I had no idea. I swear, if I'd – I would have tried to talk him out of it, or if he was adamant I would have at least have wanted him to talk to you about it before. I promise."

Cristina shifts from foot to foot and eyes him warily, before her eyes begin to water. She reaches up and wipes at them with the back of her hand. "Meredith was right about you."

Derek's head snaps up and he remembers his mission and the sole reason that he is there that night. "So you've talked to her?"

"She's in New York."

"The city?"

"That's exactly what I said," her lips curve into a smile that is almost imperceptible.

"What's she doing _there_?" He steps back, shocked.

"I don't know, finding herself, you know, if she can make it there, she can make it anywhere, all that jazz."

Derek is surprised at Cristina's ability to crack jokes despite the circumstances, and sighs. "You know if I had any idea where Burke went I would tell you."

Her eyes develop a fresh, glossy sheen of tears, "Thanks, I guess."

Derek's shoulders slump, and he buries his fingers deep into his hair again. "So where is she staying?"

"No idea," Cristina shrugs.

He stares at her, his eyes filled with bewilderment. "You didn't think to ask?"

"I wasn't really concerned, Mer's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

"Do you think she's at a hotel?"

"Probably, I don't think she really knows anyone in New York. And it's not like she has some big happy family to run to whenever she's feeling sad."

Derek nods and runs a hand over his face, his brain ticking. He curls his other hand into a fist, urging himself to think, just think. "And… she's probably checked in under her own name right?"

Cristina snorts, "She went to New York, just to go, not for some criminal espionage witness protection thing. Why wouldn't she be under her name?"

Derek fights the urge to shoot Cristina a long, and withering glare, because he knows that he needs her. "Can I," he starts and clears his throat before continuing, "Can I use your computer?"

Cristina's eyes narrow, "Why?"

It's his turn to roll his eyes, "So I can look up hotels in New York, that's why."

"There has to be hundreds."

"Well, then I'll call them all, or you could just call her and ask her where she is."

Cristina purses her lips and shakes her head, "I'm not going to make this easy for you Shepherd, and that's too easy. Besides, I'm sure she knows that you're going to ask me where she is, so there's a reason why she didn't. Lastly, her phone is off, the only time I talked to her and not to the voicemail was when she called me."

"So are you going to let me use the computer or not?"

"Fine, if you have to do your whole knight-in-shining-armor deal I'll let you use my computer, at least one of us deserves to be happy." She moves to the side to grant him access to the apartment, and Derek all but rushes to the desktop that sits in a corner of the dimly lit living room. He shifts the mouse quickly, agitated, and when the blank screen saver melts away his fingers fly across the keyboard to grant him access to the internet.

He groans loudly when his first search results in thousands of answers, and Cristina appears over his shoulder. "You know, in some alternate universe, we would form a bond over our mutual losses, and fall madly in love with each other, for eternity."

"Are you coming on to me Yang?"

"You? _Ew,_ no," Derek doesn't have to tear his gaze away from the computer screen to know that her lip has probably curled up into a sneer behind him. "Don't flatter yourself, I have _standards_. But I'll play nice, forget you said that and make some coffee – you're going to be up all night." Her feet pitter pat across the apartment floor and she gets lost in the kitchen area.

Derek sighs and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket to make the first call of the evening. "Hello? Yes… I'm looking for Meredith Grey's room…"

---

Hours later and Derek makes what feels like his millionth call, to another disgruntled concierge. "Hello, Franklin Hotel New York," comes crisply over the line.

"Hi, I'm looking for Meredith Grey's extension," Derek repeats, somewhat mechanically. He glances over at Cristina, who is flipping aimlessly through a medical journal from her spot on the couch. She has moved her blankets to the living room, and is propped up on what looks like a comfortable stack of pillows. Derek doesn't have the heart to ask her why she chooses to sleep in the living room and not in a bed.

"Ah, she's in room 1133," the concierge says over the line, and Derek is shocked into a stutter.

"Wh-what?" his eyes fly back to the desk and he reaches for a pen and paper with shaking hands, scribbling down the name of the hotel and the number.

"Room 1133 sir, would you like me to transfer the call?"

"Uh, you know what? It's late, I'll call back in the morning," he quickly interjects. "Don't worry about it, I just wanted to make sure she got in alright." He lies with ease.

"Would you like me to live a message for Ms. Grey that she can get in the morning?"

"No," he says quickly. "Completely unnecessary, I'll just – I'll just call back." He quickly hangs up the phone, so that the concierge won't ask any more questions and jumps to his feet.

"I found her," he crosses the room until he's standing in front of Cristina.

"Finally," she tosses her magazine to the side, and looks up, propping herself up on her elbows.

"So I need you to take me to the airport," he says quickly. "You might as well just come with me to the trailer, because I need to get clothes and then you can take me from there."

"You don't have any other friends?" she questions with a loud sigh, and then finally shakes her head, moving up form her position on the couch. "Fine, fine, but you're letting me scrub in on something huge when you get back, something epic. I want nothing less than to be published in return for this."

---

_I really struggled with this chapter. I realize that I could have dragged it out further, actually shown Derek at the hospital, or getting the note that Meredith left for Alex and Izzie, instead of doing it memory style but, when I was writing it something just wasn't letting me do it that way. I like to get to the meat of stories fast, but as I have little more than a few scribbled notes about songs and places to go in New York scribbled on a piece of paper, where this goes is going to be pretty surprising for me, too. Hope you enjoyed it!_


	3. Where Are You Going

_I apologize for the wait for this one! It's shorter than the others, but still important, and then next chapter really good stuff happens, and I've already started writing it so it won't be that long a wait! That was a long sentence, and a lot of exclamation points, but as usual... tell me what you all think!_

_---  
_

_I am no Superman  
I have no answers for you  
I am no hero, oh that's for sure  
But I do know one thing  
Where you are is where I belong  
I do know, where you go  
That's where I want to be_

---

Derek catches a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and decides that he looks like the Unabomber. His hair stands out at ends, ruffled from the combination of a sleepless plane ride and the countless number of times his fingers have run through from root to tip, and a dark pair of sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light of day. A thin layer of stubble has formed on his chin, and his mouth is covered in some foreign taste that he would usually obliterate with a toothbrush, or a stick of gum, but in the back of the taxi, he has access to neither. Instead, he drums his fingers anxiously on his knee and watches the various trinkets that hang from the mirror, swish and glint in the sun as they drive through Queens, and in the direction of Meredith's hotel.

Derek lets his eyes drift shut behind his glasses, and slouches deeper into the leather seat. The cab driver is listening to something rhythmic, filled with drums and singing in a language that he does no recognize or understand. On top of the music he talks into a cell phone headset in hushed tones, in what Derek imagines is yet another language. New York is always filled with languages, and this is one thing that sets it apart from, and makes Seattle seem homogeneous in comparison. Derek realizes that he hasn't returned to the city where he lived for over a decade, in more than a year. He wonders if it has changed.

Derek knows that he can answer that question fairly well on his own. New York is always in state of flux. There were always new developments, new restaurants opening, new businesses starting up. Nearly every time they rolled down the city streets in a taxi, or a town car, Addison would complain of the scaffolding that was present on every other block. It seemed that once they had adjusted to the presence of scaffolding in front of their favorite restaurant, or on the way to the practice, it would be torn down and they would have to retrain their eyes to recognize the buildings without large metal contraptions, wooden boards, and posters advertising some performance or release.

On the west coast, things are more constant. The traffic to and from the hospital is the same, every day, even his ferry ride is consistent, save for the days when a boat decides to crash and Meredith decides to drown in the ocean, or when he spends his nights at her townhouse. Although, Derek thinks, it has certainly been a long time before he has wanted to stay there, or she has let him, he's not quite sure which action is the cause.

But his ringing cell phone interrupts both his thoughts and the process of his body adjusting to the comfortable sounds of the city around him. He presses the talk button and rolls his eyes when he hears Richard's voice booming at him over the line.

"You do realize it's 4 pm and you were due to be here at 7 in the morning, Shepherd!"

Derek takes a deep breath before answering, calmly and rationally, "I'm in New York, I'm looking for Meredith."

Chief Webber's huffing and puffing is audible over the phone and Derek imagines his mentor pacing the floors of his office. "Shepherd, if you're kidding with me, so help me God-"

"I'm not, I'm in New York. I'm in the cab from the airport right now. I don't know how long I'm going to be gone for," he continues.

"What am I supposed to do without my Head of Neurosurgery in the hospital for an extended time?"

Derek rolls his eyes again, "I don't know. Seattle Grace is a big hospital and there _are_ other neurosurgeons staffed. You're the chief, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"I'm beginning to regret making you my choice for chief, I think it's going to your head," he sighs. "What's Meredith doing in New York anyway?"

"Damned if I know, she left me without saying anything." He sinks further into his seat and lets his head slump against the glass window. "She had to have asked you for the time off why didn't you tell me."

"Shepherd," Richard's voice sinks into a low register, and Derek's last name rolls off his tongue and Derek knows to prepare himself for a lecture. "It's not my business to get involved in any of the issues between yourself and Dr. Grey."

Derek snorts, "So now we're sinking to formalities, but when you're deciding who's supposed to be chief, it becomes a matter of whether or not I can be with her and be chief at the same time? That's unusually hypocritical of you, Richard."

"You really think she told me where she was going? She asked me for the time off, and I felt she deserved it so I rewarded her as such."

"And you didn't even think of asking?" Derek's voice takes on a tone halfway between a whine and a snap, as he becomes increasingly more irritated with the older man.

"It's not my place to ask."

There is a long silence, and somewhere during the pause Derek notices that the cab driver is now making his way up the FDR and he is finally back in his once beloved Manhattan.

He breaks the silence, "I'm going to her hotel. I tracked her down, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say once I finally see her. Hell, I don't even know where she is right now because I'm doubting she's in her room in the middle of a perfectly nice afternoon in New York."

"Derek, it's not right for me to-"

He cuts him off, "Quit with the formalities Richard, I need you to not be my boss for five minutes and just be my friend," he pleads.

"Well, she seemed rather upset about her sister – half-sister – and I probably should have given her more warning but," Richard pauses. "She wouldn't leave because of _that_ would she?"

"If it's not that then what, or who, is it? The only other thing I can think of is me, and if that's the case, I don't even know where to begin."

Richard clears his throat brusquely, as if to change the topic, "In any event, you better solve whatever the problem is quickly. I've already had one cardiothoracic surgeon leave unexpectedly, and it's not gong to help having you gone either."

"Ah," Derek recalls the previous night with Cristina. "Is Dr. – Is Cristina in today, speaking of Burke?"

"Don't tell me you're trying to seduce another one of the interns, Shepherd," Richard says dryly.

For the first time all day, Derek chuckles, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. "We both know that the thought of _that_ is ridiculous, Chief. I can barely manage with one, let alone two. Secondly, they're not interns anymore, they're residents, and lastly, Cristina is Meredith's friend. Somebody needs to look out for her while Meredith is away."

"As the Chief of Surgery caring after heartbroken residents is not in my job description!" Richard's voice comes booming over the line, and Derek laughs again.

"As much as you pretend that you don't care, you do, or you wouldn't have let them get away with half the things you let them get away with."

"And now look where it's gotten this hospital."

"Seattle Grace has been through a lot, the ship's not going to sink, Chief, not with you as captain." Derek has known Richard Webber for long enough to know that all it takes for him to calm down in situations like these, are a few light strokes to his already large ego.

"And to think that all I wanted to do was retire," Richard makes a low noise, which indicates the end of the conversation. They deliver the standard formalities, and Richard inserts one last demand for Derek to return to Seattle with speed.

In the next few minutes, the cab is pulling up in front of the building that Derek had earlier identified as Meredith's hotel. It is a narrow, red brick building that sits sandwiched between two much larger high-rise apartment buildings. A sign across the doorway loudly trumpets it as "The Franklin," and Derek imagines that in a different era this would have been the height of grandeur. In its present time it appears as a sad homage to a distant and happier past. But the cab driver's register is clicking and buzzing, the price for the ride flashing out at Derek in digitized red text. He snaps to life, and pays the driver, before shuffling out of the car and stretching his travel-weary legs. His luggage is at his side in moments, and the driver disappears back into the yellow vehicle and speeds off into the city, leaving Derek to stand outside the building and wonder exactly what his next course of action will be.

Derek throws back his shoulders and straightens up to his full height, dragging his suitcase behind him. He skips past the front desk and feels the same rush of energy he used to get when he and Mark would sneak into hotels for parties. _Look straight ahead, be confident, pretend you know exactly where you're going._ And in this case he does know exactly where he's headed and doesn't just have to follow the noise and the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. He repeats Meredith's room number in his head like a mantra, and when he has finally made it to the elevator he presses the button for the floor and slides his now sweaty palms down the front of his jeans.

The elevator reaches the eleventh floor and a bell rings with a satisfying _ping_. Derek straightens up again, and ignores the eyes of the man who gets on the elevator after him. He focuses his eyes on the doors in front of him, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, while scanning the numbers for 1133. At 1122 he realizes that he is looking at the wrong side of the hallway and transfers his gaze to the left, _1123_, _1125_, his feet quicken below him, _1131_, _1133_.

_1133_. He blinks, and stares at the number, overwhelmed. He hadn't thought about what he was going to say when he saw her. He had slept, albeit restlessly on the plane ride, and he thought that he would think about it on the cab ride into the city, but he hadn't. Instead he had taken in the familiar, and not-so familiar sites of New York, and had been interrupted by Richard's phone call. And now, his mind is surprisingly, mysteriously even, empty. He usually has a speech planned. In the intern locker room, before the wedding that never was, he had known exactly what he was going to tell her, about not wanting to leave her, and about being impossibly in love with her, and the words had flown out of his mouth like water. Now, he can't think, he doesn't know what to do, and most of all he is terrified.

He shifts from foot to foot, inhaling and exhaling, contemplating and wondering. He should knock on the door, he thinks, he should knock on the door and just get it over with, and if she opens it up without looking out the hole she'll stand there, shocked, and there won't have to be any words. Maybe she'll just give up whatever emotions are running through her head at this moment and jump into his arms and they'll have their happily ever after.

Derek knows that, even for him and Meredith, this outcome is far too optimistic.

He imagines a second reaction. She'll open the door and she'll be absolutely furious. She'll ball her fists and beat against his check and scream until the hotel staff come and have to calm the two of them down. Derek is unsure of exactly where this will leave him except possibly arrested, perhaps for trespassing.

He sighs, and wishes that he could be one of those "everything happens for a reason" guys, except Meredith Grey makes that particularly hard. With her, everything seems to happen, but for no apparent reason.

And as if the fates want to keep true to their word, on Derek's third and final sigh, the door swings open and Meredith is there, and he still hasn't planned what to say. Her head is down and she is searching through her purse for something. He wants to alert her of his presence, but when he opens his mouth to speak he still cannot find his words. So when Meredith finally looks up and sees him, her shocked expression matches his own. Her mouth flies open and a sharp sound crawls out from the depths of her throat, as she sucks in a violent breath.

"Meredith?" Derek manages, and she blinks twice before jumping back, slamming the door shut, and leaving him exhausted, and confused in front of her hotel room.


End file.
